Mirage
by WorldShakingRuka
Summary: Haruka dreams of her past life beside Michiru and laments not meeting her yet in this reincarnation (introspection).
1. Dreams

"Michiru?"

A thunder roared. I woke up with a start and instinctively reached for you, still half-asleep. Your side of the bed was empty. The futon felt too big without you. It took my mind a minute to clear up and grasp the reality. The dream had been too real. They all were lately. I could feel you right next to me, your warm skin on mine as we dozed off under the blankets, although I had never met you in my life. Well, in this life anyway.

In a different life we were lovers, partners, friends, once. Much more than those mere words could ever convey; we were each other's world. Two parts of a whole. Mind, body and soul resonating as one. It was the kind of love people talk about for centuries and it was ours. It was real. It was beautiful.

I got up cold and sweaty. The draft coming from the closed window made me shiver. The shutters were open, but I didn't want to get wet closing them. Instead, I added another blanket to my bed. No amount of layers would make the cold in my soul go away. That was something I had learned first hand since the lucid dreaming began.

Thirst burned my throat. I went down to the kitchen for a glass of water, gulped it down in seconds and wanted some more. Just like those dreams of you, I thought. They were the most comforting experience in the universe and still left me unsatisfied, lonely, anxious. Craving for more of something I never really had to begin with. It didn't make any sense in a logical way.

Knowing for sure I'd eventually meet you someday, that all those bittersweet dreams would become the most wonderful memories any couple can have, would have been enough to calm me down. Facing every day alone wouldn't be so terribly hard if I knew there was you at the end of that lonely road to transform my meaningless life with unconditional love and shared complicity.

What terrified me was the uncertainty of it all. I had those dreams I instinctively knew had been real in the distant past. I could hear the wind speaking to me; calling, beckoning like a mermaid does a sailor, asking me things I didn't truly understand. There was enough supernatural in my life to accept the past life theory as true. But what if it was only me that reincarnated? What if, for some reason you had stayed dead, unable to reach me in this life time?

After feeling you mine albeit in the realm of dreams, how was I supposed to go on living indefinitely? How could I get up in the morning without your love now that I had known the touch of your skin, the warmth of your smile? It seemed too cruel and lonely a fate for me to willingly surrender to it without a fight. I wanted to fight, I wanted to fight for us, to save us from never becoming "us" to begin with, but how?

I could still smell your perfume upon waking sometimes. Knew the exact shade of your sparkling blue eyes; the music in your laugh. I knew every inch of your body so well, I could draw it with my hands... by hart... with my eyes closed. I could even feel your face nuzzling my neck, yet I didn't know who you were or where you lived; nothing that could lead me to you. All I had were shattered memories of a past life and an all too real feeling of completion, a sense of belonging, of being home that just disolved into thin air the second I woke up every morning.

How can you possibly want what you don't know? Miss what you've never had? Long for what does not exist? How can you need it more than air, have it violently stolen from you if it was never yours to claim? And still, knowing that I've met you once and we lived the most sublime love story in the universe, is so incredibly fulfilling it overwhelms me. Pride and joy wash over me knowing I was lucky to have shared such precious moments with you and even luckier to have a chance to relive them in my dreams.

Emotions like that can get addictive very soon. From the very first time I remembered our life together, I couldn't eat or sleep or breathe without my mind going back to you at every turn. Everything brought you back to me, from a beautiful painting to a classical tune, or the color of the sea at dawn. Your perfection is such, nothing and no one can compare to you, my love. Living without you after knowing your love is like facing the crudest of winters in rags. There is no rest for my soul without your tender smile, no sleep without your head on my chest, no life without your hand in mine.

God really has a sick sense of humor. I went back to bed, but sleep wouldn't come. You were as elusive in them as in reality; no more than a mirage. The ghost of happiness past, forever haunting, taunting and turning into nothing the second I tried to hold on to you, to my sanity... my Michiru.


	2. Daydreaming

It was back to the tracks today. Guess watching the sun rise at the beach while thinking of you sounds more romantic than it is. Or perhaps it was meant for lovers only, and this was my punishment for going alone. At any rate, at least my fever finaly subsided last night.

I can only be grateful that gorgeous, classy you wasn't here to witness my turning into a bed-ridden mess for an entire week. I never understood what someone like you could have seen in the likes of me. In this, or any other life, but even if I were the lady killer my fans make me up to be, sneezing and shivering couldn't have possibly helped my case.

The whole thing was ridiculous, really. All those memories together and you were nowhere to be seen. So, who cares if I looked like a deranged youma, dark circles under my eyes and everything? The worst that could have happened was my trainer making an unsavory remark about my love life, thinking it's a good joke.

Still, I was forced to accept such nonsense. If he wanted to make a fool of himself and humiliate me to feel like the big kahuna, I had to let him, pretend to laugh, even. It kept him from asking too many questions. Otherwise he could have fond out I wasn't old enough to drive yet and my career would have been, if not over, at least postponed until the scandal died out.

Such an unpredictable man with that kind of power over me would have been a disaster waiting to happen and that was the last thing I needed. Racing was my fuel, my dream. It had kept me sane through that lonely nightmare. It gave me the illusion of the chase to make up for you being God knew where. Kept me going although I was not an inch closer to finding even a clue leading to you than I was when those dreams of us first started a year ago. Was it only last year? It feels like an eternity has passed since.

Lately, I've had a hard time recalling those youthful days, when I knew nothing of you and lived in ignorant bliss. Now I can't imagine my life without you. Even those haunting images of your perfect, unattainable self have become a vital part of my life. They feel much more real than everything else I do. Some days I wonder if it isn't the mundane, run of the mill activities that are a slumber I eventually wake up from to share those precious moments with you. Not the other way around.

I honestly don't understand how I managed to get things done before. If it's hard to concentrate on anything other than you upon waking to this lonely reality, not having that sort of love to look forward to would have made it absolutely pointless. Life without you seems wrong, selfish, and it's not worth living for.

Thinking about it, I find my previous life shallow and empty. Hour after hour filled with ambitious dreams I could share with no one, if they ever became true to begin with; nothing greater to strive for than personal gain. How could you ever love me, Michiru? I was such a child before you taught me warmth and love! A lonely planet orbiting a distant star, waiting for a comet to take it off its plain little orbit.

You've rocked my world, Michiru; shaken it to the very foundations, changed me to the core of my beliefs. I existed by mere inertia. You gave me a reason to keep going after I've reached my limits, something worth fighting for. I know it's easy to say so when the main danger in my life is a car crash at high speed.

Still, I remember how it was before. Who we stood up against, and I'd happily do it all over again if it meant fighting by your side. Even if fighting is all we ever did, it would be worth dying for. Hell, the mere possibility of talking to you face to face some day like we used to is worth dying for. There isn't another woman like you, Michiru. Not in a million years.

The teacher derew my attention for the second time that day, threatened to make me stand outside the classroom until the end of the class. I blinked away my reverie and looked at the board in front of me. Lots of formulas I didn't quite register filled its length. When did Japanese literature end? Was I out in my private little world through the entire recess?

No wonder I haven't made any friends! Between that and the fact that I kick everyone's ass at sports and usually exams too, it makes sense. Not that I really care about a hundred annons when I've known your sparkling laugh. Exams are drawing near, though. It is time I begin paying attention at school or I'll be pulling long all nighters away from your gorgeous blue eyes to make up for it.

That can't be allowed to happen. Not when I have you to look forward to. This time I've been given is a blessing. A chance to better myself for you. To become someone you can love and who is worthy of your attentions. Someone who isn't the selfish, self-centered child everyone thinks me to be. You might have showed me the way in the past, but it's up to me to learn from those memories now, so you can better me even further this time.

If we ever meet again, that is. Some days I wonder if this is real at all. What if I'm just losing my mind to some sort of mental illness? Schizophrenia... But it seemed so real... it _felt_ so real! It can't be a lie. Can it, Michiru? Will you become a side note in some shrink's clipboard as they listen to my endless ramble? There goes Tenoh Haruka, who had the potential to become the greatest racer the world has ever seen. Instead, they're locked up in this looney bin talking about an aqua-haired muse from their past life to whoever wants to listen.


	3. Waking Up

It was early Friday morning. The sky was slowly changing from black to the glorious color symphony of dawn when I caught a glimpse of you. I was dragging my feet across campus on my way to the locker rooms, when I saw a familiar aqua hair I would recognize anywhere, in any lifetime. My brow, still sweaty from the routine track practice, furrowed in denial before shock set in. Wide green eyes stared at your figure, ethereal as ever, dancing in the wind.

A flyer, brought to me from God knows where by my element, flashed your seductive smile in my direction for a fraction of a second. Then it took you away, like a whimsical child determined not to share a precious toy. I ran towards you with all my might, trying more than ever to become the wind, to beat it at its own game. It was futile. No one can be faster than the wind, no matter how good they are at running. Not even I.

I lost you behind the Science building, when you soared so high, the green canopy over my head must have appeared like a green carpet to your paper eyes. Hands on my knees, I panted for air, growled in burning frustration. No race had ever left me in such a state and with good reason! That had been the race of my life and I had lost it. I could have punched myself on the face.

After what seemed like forever, there was finally a sign from you and I let it go away like an amateur. What a joke I was! Best runner in the team, winner of national awards. For what? When the moment came for my intensive training to be of use, I couldn't even steal back a stray flyer from the wind.

It was heart breaking, maddening, infuriating. The loss took the form of a physical pain in my chest. Or, perhaps, it was my lungs bursting with need for oxygen, the way my heart longed for your warmth. For less than a second, you were so close I could almost feel you in my arms, only to disappear back into anonymity a moment later. It was almost worse than never seeing you at all.

Logically, I understood it was a childish line of thought. Even without catching the flyer, those were good news. Excellent news! Now there was actual proof of your existence in this life. I could eventually find you! Those long sleepless nights wondering if you were even real, fearing your soul might have not followed me into this world, would be over at long last.

That's what any normal person would have thought. They would have been ecstatic, impatient to begin searching for you. Not me, though. The futility of my try, that fleeting moment my eyes met yours in that picture, opened up an old wound I've been carrying for as many lives as we've been together. One that slayed my chest the second we met for the very first time in the history of mankind.

You; perfect, stoic, beautiful, deserved much more than the very best I had to give. No one ever told me that. I knew it instinctively. Such a paragon of womanhood and cultivated intelligence was born for a higher purpose, meant to live among the best people in her generation, destined to be treated like royalty. I was rough, physical and led a fast-paced life. Not exactly marriage material for such a princess.

Even if I tried, I couldn't even begin to imagine how to meet your high class needs. You would have to constantly lower yourself to my level in order to protect my fragile ego. Not that I presumed to deserve that, of course... and, at the same time, you and me, together, felt like the most natural thing in the world. A given. Just like breathing.

I remembered dreaming of this before, feeling this hopelessness in as many incarnations as I could recall. Always striving to impress you, to become someone worthy of your perfection. I could still see that white marble ballroom full of ancient royalty, the aqua dress you wore, the blue ribbon on your hair; the night we had our first dance. You looked at me with such love, such kindness, Michiru. I died a little inside out of sheer, blissful love for you. That a beautiful, unearthly creature would regard simple me in such a way, was more than I had ever hoped for.

Everyone agreed with my fears, fed them, purposely fueled them. I knew I didn't deserve you and their disapproving scowls and disgusted glaring spoke loud enough for me. It was intimidating to say the least. You? You couldn't have cared less!

Your hand settled on mine casually, as if we had done that a thousand times before. A knowing, smug little smile danced on your lips as you moved through the ballroom with me, swaying in time with the music with dignified confidence. Your chin, high and proud, seemed to defy everyone we had ever known to even hint that we were anything but meant to be. There was a fire in your sapphire eyes that warned them to keep their tongues on check, their thoughts to themselves.

It could have been me leading you across the dance floor, but it was definitely you who guided me through a night filled with judgement and hatred. Your many suitors could have given anyone the evil eye, the way those deadly stares pierced me as we danced the night away, waltz after waltz, locked into a world of our own.

As much as I tried, taking my eyes from yours seemed impossible. They were hypnotizing. You didn't look away from me either, not for a single second, although both protocol and good manners would have demanded so. It was a statement. In your own, unique way, you were telling everyone to back off, to honor your choice, to respect me or face the consequences. You wouldn't be forgiving to those who challenged that.

I could sense that much from you, with the understanding that comes naturally between two people destined to be together for all eternity. Soul mates. A word I had openly laughed at before. It was meaningless until we met, just an expression coined by exaggerated drunken poet wannabes.

That changed forever the second your hand touched mine. It all clicked in place. Those words suddenly were the truest ones ever spoken. Life grew a new meaning to me, overwhelming as I was by a feeling more powerful than anything I had ever felt before. It was beautiful and absolutely breath taking. Just like you.

And there you were, carried away by the wind, flashing your million dollar smile with your eyes gleaming over whatever tune your violin was playing when the picture was taken; gone the next second, leaving me empty and desperate for your warmth. How could the good news be properly appreciated when those powerful memories hit me within an instant with the force of a thousand suns only to leave me cold and naked in the vast, empty space the next moment? I wanted to hit something, to physically destroy anything in my way until that self-directed rage calmed down enough to think. Still, there was nothing for me to break in the perfectly manicured school garden.

Slowly, my breathing went back to normal and I calmed enough to appreciate what happened. You were alive in this world with me, playing your enchanting music somewhere out there, while I wasted my time in ancient memories about people long dead. People who had nothing to do with us and yet, were our very essence once.

Realization finally dawned on me, as my heartbeat slowed back into its steady rhythm. I would see you again soon! We could talk and walk and laugh as always, lost in blissful oblivion with not a single care in the world while mankind came to an end around us. After all, if there was a flyer at school, your concert had to be nearby. Perhaps someone from the music department knew where the performance would be. Everything would fall back into place after that. I was sure.

Once again, my heart went wild at the mere memory of your music. The possibility of listening to your concerts, adagios and sonatas was too much to bear. I could almost hear your beautiful, breath-taking music in my head as if it had been hardwired into my soul. It probably had, time after time after time through a thousand lifespans, the same way I could see your art upon closing my eyes. Old paintings and new flashed past me in a colorful blur. It was intoxicating, like an expensive wine over a decadent, romantic dinner.

A bell tolled. Its melodic sound echoing through the entire campus to inform students the first class of the day had begun. I was still a few hundred yards from my assigned classroom for that period, but I couldn't care less. Slowly, with a confident smirk on my face, I walked away from it, making my way to the music building. Let them be mad at me for breaking all codes of conduct, interrupt a class to ask the students a question that could very well wait until the recess. Let them suspend me. It meant nothing if it brought me closer to hearing your laugh again and I couldn't wait.


	4. Obsession

The music building was a dead end. An annual field trip I had no idea about left it deserted, killing my only half-decent chance at finding you. I spent the rest of the day roaming the campus in search of more of your flyers to no avail. The place was as manicured and litter free as ever.

My weekend went by in a blur. On top of the usually hectic racing and training schedule, I had devoted all my free time to scouting the school's neighborhood looking for posters, asking about you in cultural hubs and museums. I even gave up studying for the upcoming tests to browse music magazines in search of an ad. Still, the elusive piece of information stayed out of reach.

On Sunday I remembered the internet existed. Out of better ideas, I did a tentative web search, though there wasn't much to go with. Just as I decided to quit, a thought crossed my mind. There was one place I hadn't looked yet. Every now and then I'd go to a classical concert to relax and take my mind of school and responsibilities.

My fingers typed the url automatically. The classical music portal for my area had a bulky news bulletin board, full of concerts and presentations. It took me only a couple of minutes of scrolling to finally see your beautiful smile again.

My heart skipped a beat. The next instant, it ran wildly inside my chest, threatening to burst it open out of sheer joy. You stared back at me from a color version of the flyer I had seen a couple of days earlier. After such a frantic search, the idea of success took a couple of seconds to sink in, but it was short lived.

The ad read: "Saturday 6pm. Kaioh Michiru in live concert at..."

I stopped reading, blood suddenly draining from my face. I had missed it. Running around the streets like a maniac, I had overlooked the obvious. This was the price for my lack of vision. What an anticlimax! If only this brain of mine didn't become completely useless under pressure! I could have seen you; met you, even! Not that I had any idea of what to say if we did meet face to face.

Yet, I craved it with every fiber of my being. I had to meet you for real, see for myself whether the connection those strange recurring dreams promised was truly there. After all, it could be just my subconscious playing a nasty trick, populating my dreams with some random musician's picture from a website I often visited.

Why not? It made much more sense than the whole soul mate theory. The only problem was the latter felt more real than anything my everyday life held, while the former, more logical explanation, struck me as whimsical and far fetched. By then, I was convinced that meeting you was the only way of telling dreams from reality.

When the adrenaline rush died down, I could think logically once again. OK, so it wasn't a complete failure. I knew your name now. Kaioh Michiru. Michiru. The name felt natural on my tongue, as if I had spoken it a thousand times. Yes. That was you, the girl from my dreams. There was no doubt about it. Kaioh Michiru. My Michiru. Memories of our lives past flooded my every sense for what could have been an hour or an eternity.

There was no way of telling how long I had spaced out but, when I came back to reality, determination burned in my eyes. I would find you no matter what. Your eyes, your smile, your laugh, your very existence pulled us together like gravity. I could feel it stronger than anything else I had felt before. I had to meet you. See if you felt the same, shared my dreams. I couldn't keep going like that, with you monopolizing my attention every waking moment, only to haunt me in dreams when I finally laid down to rest. I had to know. My sanity depended on it.

A quick web search including the newly discovered information, yielded better results. A website and a list of upcoming concerts, along with a video channel and a photo gallery. I was in awe. From the beginning, the information had been available to everyone who enjoyed classical music.

I just couldn't believe that was really you on the screen. It couldn't have been anyone else, of course. Those hands, those kinky aqua curls... Kaioh Michiru, the girl of my dreams; my one and only. The person I had lived, fought, and died with, time and time again since before humanity was called that. It was too good to be true and yet, the proof was staring back at me from the computer.

Instinctively, I checked the next performances first. That concert I'd missed had been your last before a three month tour around Japan. It was just my luck! My heart raced at the finding and I slammed my fist into the table, wincing at the pain that came with it. I couldn't wait that long! There had to be a way to put me out of my misery before then.

There were a couple of weeks before your first tour concert. I had triple checked the dates. Even if you flew to Kyoto in advance to rehearse with the orchestra, surely a professional violin player wouldn't take that long to get in sync with other musicians, right? And even the best had to take some time off every now and then. You'd be in Tokyo for at least a couple more days. Finding you wasn't impossible, statistically speaking, just extremely unlikely. Then again, I had always loved a challenge.

My mind had already started to weave a plan, which considerably reduced my anxiety. I went to bed early Sunday night, impatient for morning to come so I could get to work as soon as possible. Still, I'd be lying if I denied getting obsessed with those snapshots and videos for hours. The images were still vivid in my mind when I laid down in bed, your beautiful interpretation of Liebesleid softly playing on repeat in the background.

The next morning I jumped out of bed in high spirits, ready to face the world and trusting to come out victorious. I called my old piano teacher, an eminence in the Japanese music scene, and bargained for over an hour. As expected, he refused to give me any information on you at first, but then I used all my charm, family influences, and quite a few lies about wanting to take piano seriously at last to win him over.

That got me the desired result in the end, although my morning classes were halfway over by the time he hung up. Who needed to pass that algebra test anyway? Not me, that's for sure. I would fake an illness, get a doctor certificate to back it up, and re sit it the following week. Finding you was more important than anything else. It had become both my obsession and first priority.

Since the day was already lost, I decided to make the most of it by going over the fruit of my persuasion. There were four different orchestras and string quartets you regularly performed with, as far as my teacher knew. Perhaps their rehearsal halls could yield more information if I played my cards right. After such a success with the master pianist, I felt ready to sell Popsicles to the Inuit. Besides, there wasn't much a young secretary wouldn't share with the likes of me if you appealed to their coquettish side. That, I could do with my eyes closed.

I started my tour full of confidence, visiting the place closest to my apartment. It was failure after failure throughout most of the afternoon, except for one woman who talked my ears off but happened to have no idea of your whereabouts. It turned out to be her first day on the job.

Had it not been for the fact that all of those women were well over fifty, I would have started to doubt my good looks and charm. I just had to accept that the best I had to offer was no match for their grandchildren's appeal. Luckily, that was something I could live with, secretly being a sucker for kids and all.

As the sun began to set, I arrived at the last address anticipating defeat. The auditorium was closed due to remodeling, most of the administrative staff was on vacation, and it was too late for anyone in their right mind to still be at the office under such circumstances.

The young man at the front desk explained that to me. Sympathizing with my made up story, he admitted that the musician I was looking for did come and go often, as she was part of their main orchestra. Still, he refused to disclose even the most vague aspects of her schedule. After his negative, the guard standing nearby gave me an unfriendly glare.

Kudos for their security level, I thought ironically. I had come that close only to be stopped by someone who believed fans were mentally ill for idolizing another human being. Yes, the man had a point, but the whole situation was most annoying!

However, I had devised a backup plan during lunch. It wasn't brilliant, not even smart and felt like something a third grader would come up with. Still, simple as it was, it beat giving up and going home empty handed. All I had to do was slip into your dressing room and leave a coded message no one else would understand. Nothing too personal, of course. I wasn't setting up a blind date or anything. Nor did I want you to feel harassed by a crazy psycho, which is probably what the security guard took me for.

It would be something simple, just to let you know I existed out there somewhere, outside your subconscious mind —assuming you shared my visions of the past. The words formed in my mind by instinct: I know you can hear the sea talking to you. If that didn't motivate you to find me, nothing would. In which case, I would wait those three months and try a different approach once your tour was over. Perhaps it was for the best. Clearly, being impulsive wasn't working out for me.

The security guard refused to cooperate. I had asked for him to leave a bouquet in front of your mirror. The cryptic little note attached to it would take care of the rest, but he was adamant against it. I was about to go home when something got my attention.

There was chatter coming from one of the auditorium doors. It grew louder every second and I recognized your lovely voice among many others. My heart skipped a beat at the musical sound that made me the happiest person in the universe for over a millennium. You were there, across the tall double doors, just a few yards away from me. It was a matter of seconds before I could finally meet you and know for real.

My mouth went dry. My whole body tensed up with the strongest fight or flight reflex I had felt in my life. Heart racing insanely in my chest, I suddenly wanted to be anywhere but there, so you wouldn't realize just how stupid I was skipping school to go in a wild goose hunt around the city, to deliver a nonsensical note in a lily bouquet. At the same time, there was nowhere else I would have rather been if my life depended on it. An invisible force pulled me towards you like a magnet. Suddenly the red thread of destiny didn't sound silly at all.

Somehow, it felt as if my whole life boiled down to that moment. I didn't want to ruin it but, for all my active searching, I was still clueless as to what to say to you once we finally met in person. "Hello, I'm the creep who keeps on dreaming about a past life as your lover" didn't quite reach my standards and neither would yours if I knew you at all. I had to be subtle.

What an idiot, I thought as anxiety increased as the voices became clearer. The security guard felt the same way, if his apprehensive glances towards the door were anything to go by.

The only thing that reassured me was knowing the nightmare would be over at last. Whether we were star crossed lovers from many past lives ago or I was going crazy, I had to know. I needed to make sense of those dreams of you and know if you felt the same.


	5. Disappointment

The voices grew louder until it was obvious the door separating us wouldn't remain closed long. Beside me, the security guard seemed to finally make up his mind. He turned around and opened it in anticipation to the musicians' arrival. The two I could see from this angle weren't the least shocked to see the young man clear their path.

"Good afternoon, Kaioh-san." He greeted into the door.

I flinched. Michiru was right there, hidden by the door. My teeth clenched, hands balled up in fists to prevent my shaking from becoming too obvious. I had my eyes trained so hard on the white wood separating us, they hurt. They say first impressions are paramount. What would you think of me? Wrinkled white shirt and casual black pants fit for the hunt I had been devoting myself to all day, I couldn't possibly be a nice sight.

"Good afternoon, Ito-san." You returned the pleasantry.

"There is a Tenoh Haruka here. He is one of your fans and insists on seeing you. I can't get him to leave." The man explained in a lower, apologetic voice. You giggled, probably used to stalkers by now. Me? I was going from pink to red with embarrassment. "If you could sign him an autograph or something, I'm sure..."

"That's all right. I'll handle it." Your musical voice sang nonchalantly before turning towards me.

Blue. The impossibly deep blue of your enchanting eyes pierced me the way people often accused mine of doing, as if you were seeing right through me. They were serious, demanding, yet rather calm above that polite little smile of yours. I could go to war and die for eyes like those.

My heart skipped a beat. I gasped inaudibly. Such beauty couldn't be real. It was almost too much to bear, it hurt to think of how unattainable you were... like a bird in love with a beautiful sea creature, doomed to die before ever reaching its beloved.

"I- Uh..." I cursed my stupidity. This was no way of looking less stupid than the fanboy that guard was making me up to be. I cleared my throat, hopeful for a fresh start. My eyes were holding your gaze but it was obviously all bravado, like a little boy trying to appear proud and mature in front of his elders.

"Your Paganini Caprice number twenty four cascades off your violin so fluidly it's like listening to the sea. I think you were holding back." I found my voice after a long, tense silence. Alluding to one of your online videos, it sounded much more confident than I felt. Not that I dreamed of ever fooling you.

"What do you mean?" You asked innocently, although the two sapphires fixed on me were dead serious.

"You can hear the waves crash, can't you?" I pushed on, running on adrenaline. Your beautiful dace registered shock, surprise and, finally, defiance. My encrypted message had been received and understood. There was no doubt of that. I desperately scanned your face for any indication of recognition; any clue that the woman who loved me back so fiercely, who gave her life to save mine more than once, was in there somewhere.

"What a strange thing to say. So, what do you want from me?"

"I'm a student of Sakamoto Ryuuichi-san. Please accompany me in a duet." The words slid off my tongue without consent, bold and over familiar. How silly and childish you must have found my request. Still, it was way better than coming across as someone seeking your autograph.

"I don't do that sort of thing." Your apologetic tone was not exempt of condescension. In any case, your glare spoke loud and clear, leaving no space for misinterpretation.

My head sunk in spite of myself as you turned to leave. The other band members were a few feet ahead when you hurried to catch up with them, leaving me behind. A part of me broke that instant, but I had faith and my natural stubbornness on my side. Like I said, I've always loved a challenge. This wouldn't stop me from fighting for us. We were meant to be! I knew that if you could just spend five minutes of your time getting to know me, you'd feel the same gravitational pull I did.

Speaking of anticlimaxes, the previous one was nothing but a faint echo compared to this full blown hurricane. The security guard's gaze made the back of my neck burn while something cold seemed to crawl up and down my spine. I wish the earth would shatter and eat me alive. I couldn't have been more humiliated.

The drive home was quiet. I stopped by the beach in a spot that looked just like the one we used to spend our free time watching the sun set in our previous life. I couldn't tell whether it was the same or not, or if it had been the incarnation right before this one or a much older memory. They all felt new and alive, blazing like fire on my heightened senses.

I had been spending way too much time alone in that beach lately. It made me feel lonely while easing up my loneliness at the same time. It made no sense in a logical way. Like with you, I just couldn't get enough. There was something about the place and those Ceylon eyes of yours that melted my willpower away.

A car slowly rolled to a stop a few yards behind. I turned away to see a limo parked right next to my convertible. A black tinted window quickly rolled up right before the door opened. There are no words to describe my surprise when you emerged from the car, as shocked by the coincidence as I was. Time slowed down to a crawl. It seemed to stop altogether for an eternal moment and then things happened really fast.

You flinched mid motion and withdrew back into the black car. A second later it was rolling back in a sloppy maneuver. It was clear you couldn't get away from me fast enough. I didn't need to see your limo break the speed limit to realize that but, if meeting like this in such a secluded intimate place wasn't enough proof that we were destined for each other, what was?

I stared at the horizon long after the black dot had finally disappeared, my body stiff in the same unnatural pose the astonishment of you showing up at out secret spot had left me. Feeling, thinking, moving, everything seemed impossible. I was somewhere else, out of reach. The light were on but there was nobody home. What an idiot I must have looked like! It was good you were gone and couldn't see it. Me? All I could register was your surprise; eyes wide open, mouth agape, eyebrows raised.

The image stayed with me for a long time before I could break the spell and get back into my car. I didn't feel like going home. Being alone with myself was the least thing I needed. I wanted to go somewhere, be with people, get lost in the crowd and find a distraction. But I knew nothing could erase you from my mind now that I had found you.

For a while, I just drove aimlessly around the city, watching the colors in the sky slowly change from fiery orange to midnight blue. There were plenty of restaurants where I could have stopped for dinner, even more pubs to drown your ghost, but my mind had long stopped getting physical cues of that sort. Of any sort, really. There was only you. It demanded to know where you were, what you were doing, if you were thinking of me at all. Surrounded by so many talented musicians, did you ever feel lonely?

Eventually, I remembered the black cat who lived in the alley around the corner and headed home. The poor shabby thing would have died when it first crossed my path the year before, if it weren't for that stupid maternal streak that kept me bringing the damned animal food every night. Over the course of the first month, its ruffled fur improved until it fully morphed into a glossy coat any otter would have been envious of. Its piercing green eyes were proud, always defying.

Sometimes I think I saw myself reflected in them and that's what kept me coming back day after day. Truth was I needed its company as much as it needed the nourishment I brought. I was young, handsome and talented. My innate charm had the media eating from my hand. Every woman who was into motor sports and racing loved me, along with some of the guys. I could have had any lover I fancied still I kept to myself.

Mother said it was out of snobbishness, that I should be less picky. If she only knew! My craving for companionship was so specific, it was reduced to a single person for as many lives as I could remember... and, for the record, I remembered dozens.

Yes. I was lonely. So utterly alone that I curled up in bed every night, shivering under the blankets like a child. I often cried myself to sleep. Being bright and gifted means isolation. Everyone thinks you're too good to be their friend... and they're all so similar, so plain, you can't help but see them as sheep from the same flock, herded from place to place without ever having a say in their lives. I just couldn't bear the thought of sharing anything remotely important with someone like that.

My neighbor the black cat was different. She was a loner, a survivor and she needed me; her kittens needed me. No one had ever needed me before. It gave me a sense of responsibility, of importance. But, above all things, it made me feel like I belonged in her tiny family, sheltered by a cardboard box I had taken the time to water proof for them.

It wasn't that I didn't want to take them upstairs with me. I would have gladly adopted the whole lot had the building not had a no pets allowed policy. I couldn't just move out of my apartment because of that. The lease wasn't due for another year at the very least and I had other things on my mind. Racing, running, tuning cars, playing the piano. As much as I appreciated the love, my life didn't revolve around a bunch of cats, cute as they might have been.

The feline family distracted me that night right when I needed it the most, just like a real family would have. I hung out with them longer than usual, playing with the five energetic kittens before grudgingly returning home. I chopped some vegetables for an improvised late night dinner like an automaton and ate it just as mechanically. It was past midnight and my brain was beyond fried from all the shock, excitement and disappointment.

I crawled under the blankets and fell asleep right away. No feeling sorry for myself or anything. My mind needed to be shut down for a while in order to process that day's events. Then I could beat myself up all I wanted. The sweet oblivion that comes with sleep was too alluring for me to resist even if I had had any self control left.

Author's note: Thanks to all 700+ of you who read my story and to the few who actually took the time to leave a comment. I apologize for posting the fourth chapter before it was proof read and edited. It is all polished and neat now, guys. I also want to thank my beautiful girlfriend for being an inspiration and filling my life with joy every day. You're the Fluffvember to my Angstober.


	6. Depression

Tuesday was hell. The second I opened my eyes, the events of the previous day came crashing at me. I felt like banging my head against a wall, until unconsciousness put me out of my misery again.

How could I have been so stupid!? I should have left while I could, before I made an idiot of myself in front of you, the help desk guy and that cocky security guard. He had looked proud and smug to watch me leave. And then I had to pick your favorite spot of all places! I kept reliving the day over and over again in my head, unable to think of a way things could have gone worse. There weren't any silver linings to my situation.

When my alarm clock went off I would have thrown it out the window, but it could have hurt an innocent passerby downstairs. Most importantly, the glass was bullet proof, so I had to get out of bed and engage in my morning routine. No sum of money would have felt too high a price to pay to stay in bed all day, wallowing in self-pity. Perhaps that would cure that hollow feeling eating me up.

Needles to say, I had no desire to go to school. There was no way I would be able to focus on anything anyway and still had an Algebra teacher to pacify. After that huge disappointment yesterday, my mind completely forgot to get a doctor's sponsorship for the futile crusade I had thrown myself into. The worst part was I still didn't care about the consequences at all. The weight of what I had lost, right when it was almost within my reach, was too heavy a burden to enjoy the small things in life that used to make my days.

The morning shower was unsatisfying; breakfast, bland; music, dull; driving, boring. There was no getting your piercing glare out of my head. I could see it as vividly as the day before just by closing my eyes. To you, I was persona non grata now. Why? I just couldn't get it and not knowing it drove me insane. For all the trouble I had been through in the past few days, I was still stuck in the same ignorance pit where I began my search.

The worst part? Having thousands of memories that proved your love for me, it broke my heart to remember the aversion in your eyes. How did we even got to that? Us, that had been two hearts beating as one for millenniums! Could it be possible that you had fallen out of love with me without even giving us a chance? It just didn't make any sense.

There had to be more to it than that. You were never an impulsive person, least of all an unreasonable one. Knowing just how perfectly compatible we had always been, someone this sensible wouldn't say no without a good reason. If you had only been kind enough to share it with me, I could have faced the uninspiring mundane day ahead. Did you even remember I existed after a good night's sleep? Was your disdain my cue to asume I was going insane after all and seek professional help? I couldn't be. Not really... or could I?

In the end, I didn't lose my mind. It was just nonsensical, sappy teenage drama.

Days turned to weeks and weeks faded into months. Life didn't regain back its color, but my lackluster existence eventually became engaging enough to retain my focus for brief periods of time. I tried to make them count, getting the most from them when it mattered to be immersed in what I was doing for once. Focusing on my studies and ambitions to keep your ghost out of my mind eventually worked. Faking it till I made it, one day I had banned you from my life most of my waking time. It was progress. The beginning of a new existence. One devoid of warmth and hope, but a fresh start nonetheless.

Motor sports and track running filled my days. Pushing me to become faster than the wind, they grew into a brand new obsession meant to replace you. It was like a postcard from Paris when you've seen the real thing, but it kept me functional. I busied myself with car tuning and piano lessons with my old teacher to maintain down time at a bare minimum. Eating, sleeping and showering were the only allowed breaks, along with feeding my furry family at the alley.

The beach lost its appeal to me. I still atended your every concert held within a logical radius, of course. But my morbid fascination with your rejection had little to do with daydreaming now a days. It was more like a self inflicted punishment, meant to remind me of the dangers getting too close to another human being entailed. Craving for intimacy was weakness and I was determined to be stronger, steadier; faster than pain. I wanted to soar higher, where nothing could ever touch me again the way you had when my world came crashing down at the beach that afternoon.

My career took a turn for the better thanks to all long after hour practice sessions. My lap time went down to numbers that impressed even the oldest men in the trade. There was even gossip about me competing internationally soon. The money that came with the job also increased significantly, to the point where I couldn't have spent it all in one day even if I had put my mind to it and tried hard.

Mother was proud and so was Sakamoto-sensei. After all, I had taken my music to a professional level. I still refused to play in public in spite of their fiery insistence but, in their eyes, it was no longer something to be ashamed of. That should have sated my life long craving for their approval. Yet, it was as insignificant as the rest of my objectively impressive achievements and ever growing material possessions.

Without the one thing I truly craved in my life, there was no point in having everything else anyone in their right mind could have dreamed of —or all of it for that matter. Such money success and fame... what were they for if I had no one special to share it with? What was I supposed to do with more gadgets that I could use? The brands I endorsed never told me that. Their state of the art shenanigans lay carelessly scattered around, untouched. Forgotten like broken old toys after your fist computer. It was me who was broken, really. I had lost the ability to trust, to live, to enjoy.

Defeated in spite of my winning streak, I sleepwalked through life, pushing forward with nothing in my future that could possibly bring me happiness or pleasure. It wasn't a goal that kept me running. I still flashed my million dollar smile to the cameras —obviously— and treated the journalists with witty comebacks that felt absolutely fake; an empty shell full of nothing but air.

On the bright side, I wasn't sad anymore. I wasn't happy either. I was apathetic, beyond all possible emotion; running on adrenaline and way too much caffeine for anyone's health, like an addict who can only think of their next high to save them from reality. I hated myself for it, but knew no other means to escape getting hurt. In the end, I was no better than those mundane people who felt as demotivated in their tiny lives, as I did on my luxurious new apartment. Them, like me, ran away from pain as better as they could, even if their escape was conceptual, a complete opposite of my very literal take on the phrase.


	7. Violinist hands

It was late in the afternoon. I had just returned from my running practice when the unusual smell of acetone slapped my face. A quick scan of the living room revealed you, majestic as ever in your sky blue evening dress, removing your nail polish on our designer couch. Something was off. I couldn't even remember the last time I had seen you wear such a thing!

Shock made me careless. A louder than usual step on my account made you flinch. You looked up at me, guilt and shame written all over your beautiful features. I raised my eyebrows questioningly, but you just looked away and shook your head softly, a sad, resigned little smile playing on your lips.

I approached slowly and sat next to you, my inquisitive eyes never leaving your face.

"That color would have gone well with your eyes." I said with fake nonchalance.

"It was a ridiculous fancy anyway." You decreed with a barely perceptible wince, eyes still downcast as your violinist fingers removed the last traces of varnish from shortly cropped nails.

"What is it, Michiru?" I asked covering both your hands with mine, getting both palms stained in the process.

You looked up at me at last, faking a smile that would have fooled the world, but not me, never me. I knew you too well for that. At least as well as you did yourself.

"It's not about the polish, is it?"

You shook your head again, your sad smile warming up a bit.

"It's very silly, actually." You said shielding those huge emeralds from me with lush, mascara covered lashes.

"Nothing capable of inspiring such a reaction from you could be silly."

"This is." You insisted.

I squeezed your hands reassuringly and waited.

"They're not feminine enough." You whispered at last, slumping your shoulders a bit and still not meeting my gaze.

"Your hands?"

"My fingers." You rectified my faux-pas coolly. Apparently my question only made things worse.

"They're perfect."

"No. They're not." You said with a frown I knew too well. It was the one that was supposed to keep tears at bay. "They have callouses and the nails are too squarish and short to look good, no matter what I do. Such coarse hands could very well belong to a fisherman!"

"Michiru." I beckoned softly, hoping you'd look up. "These hands create the most sublime music I have ever heard." I said when you finally did. "They are a gift from God and should be treated as such: with respect and reverence." I squeezed your hands for effect, holding your gaze with as much love as I could put into it. "Don't you think that is a small price to pay for your wonderful talent?" I asked softly.

Deep into my personal space, you searched my eyes for any sign of untruthfulness for the longest time, head slightly tilted to a side. Eventually, a slow smile bloomed in your glorious lips and your eyes closed half way in what I knew was an expression of love and gratitude.

"Thank you." You whispered slowly closing the distance between your lips and mine.

"Besides, it could have been worse." I whispered right before you kissed me, making you open your eyes in surprise. "You could have been a lefty." I said with a conspiratorial smirk that, together with my joke, gave you the longest fit of the giggles I have ever witnessed.

I woke up with a start, shocked to find myself alone in a narrow futon, in a bedroom that was familiar yet not our own. Was the concert over? Did I sleep through it and miss it? Were you finally okay with your hands?

After splashing cold water over my face, it still took me a long minute to realize where —and most importantly _when_ — I was. It was like getting hit by a car at full speed wearing no protection what so ever.

Our most recent memories together flashed through my eyes, bringing me up to date with our situation: you refused to spend time with me and brought your car to full speed to escape me when we coincided somewhere.

No. Cold, harsh reality and overworking myself to death wouldn't be enough to take this tender memory away from me, I decided, going back to bed. I snuggled under the futon and let sweet oblivion take me back to better times once again.

Author's note: This is a little omake because everyone loves fluff and it was just too funny an idea to never see daylight, yet too short to stand on its own two feet. It was inspired by me wondering how someone like Hilary Hahn could go about her daily life as a woman with the huge callouses that HAVE to come with the excessive amount of mind blowingly beautiful music she plays. Like, seriously, have you listened to her play Bach's Gigue in D minor (you guys totally should btw)? And that's when she was barely a kid!


	8. Sunrise

I won a few important races. Those glorious days I should have treasured were fleeting moments of something vaguely resembling happiness that passed by in a blur and were over before I could even grasp what was going on. Then, they were gone, leaving me even more alone than before, by contrast. Anyone else who won these kind of competitions went to party after party before going home to celebrate with their families. Me? I would go through the required formalities and go back into an empty apartment. My impenetrable mask of confidence and pride shiny as ever, yet I cried myself to sleep at night as I did before meeting you for the first time, hundreds of years ago.

Mother had a pianoforte delivered to my apartment as a birthday present, although it was impossible to tell if it was an early or belated one, so far removed from the actual date. I resented her for the gesture. The woman never called and we seldom met in person, yet she always knew when something was upsetting me, even if she had no idea what it was. Her informers must be doing a hell of a job keeping tabs on me.

The actual problem wasn't the gesture but the form, really. The woman kept forcing things on me like that. Masking something she wanted to push me into under a blanket of concern for my well being and a faked interest in my own hobbies. Drip drip dripping her convictions endlessly until I embraced them as my own, impossible as it was to forget whose idea it was for me to take piano lessons to begin with.

In the end, became addicted to the damned thing all the same, like we all knew I would. Before I knew it, I was spending every free second composing music that would never be even remotely as good as yours. It felt like comparing a child's scribble with an award winning novel. I knew this, yet I was unable to stop. Composing was my haven, a safe place where my soul was free to long for you and suffer at will; a way to feel close to you.

After that, the dreams of our past lives became more vivid than ever, urgent, determined to haunt me until I gave up my pride and went back to you. What for? I didn't not know. It was clear nothing I had to say or offer would sway your determination. The look in your eyes that day at the beach made that much clear. You knew who I was and wanted nothing to do with me. No random fan would have gotten quite a reaction from you.

Did you share the visions that came to me at night? Was that what you were running from? Us? Was your life so perfect you didn't need me in it? That you'd risk the world coming to an end to keep your bubble of perfection unspoiled until the very last second? I don't believe it. You mignt not have an interest in me, personally, but the Kaioh Michiru I've known so long would have never ran away from her duty as a Senshi. She would have faced fate head on, with a mysterious smile playing in her lips. Then what was it that made you so fiercely want to escape me and everything I embodied? I just could't wrap my head around it, no matter how much I tried.

Sometimes, after a particularly violent dream about one of our previous battles or a very private sweet memory of the two of us, I would wake up wondering if you had just seen exactly what I had. There was no way of knowing how those things worked. Perhaps the two of us had random images chosen from our shared past memories every night depending on that day's events but, wouldn't it be all the more twisted and fateful if they were shared? Two minds, two hearts, acting and feeling as one. That's the way it used to be for us back when we walked this path together. Was it different this time? Was that the reason why you denied us the chance to be together?

The alarm clock beside me flashed 4AM in angry red numbers. Yet another sleepless night. Anyone seeing me fall asleep at school day after day would have thought I'd have no problem getting a much needed rest at night, that I would fall asleep the second my head touched my pillow. If only that were the case! Dreams and daydreams about you swirled together endlessly until dawn.

I remembered that night. I was asleep when you called. Tired after our long battle with a youma earlier that day God knew how many years ago.

"Michiru?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"There's no one else who'd call me at this hour."

"Let's go watch the sunrise at the beach." You said eager, yet a little shy.

"Right now!?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes." You whispered mysterious and sensual as ever.

I had dropped you home after a late dinner, assuming you'd go straight to bed after such a long day. My body was all sore from all the bruises the fight had granted me and you couldn't have felt much better. What was more, it was a school night and we had midterms coming.

"The sun will rise at the beach tomorrow and the day after that."

"But this one will happen only once."

"You're so annoying!" I said to hide just how romantic the idea was. My cheeks were burning in the dark at the thought of the two of us, alone, watching the sky burn in a place where your element and mine came together naturally, forever making love.

Your end of the line was silent for a long time and I could almost see your gorgeous lips pout at my comment. The mental picture broke my heart, melting what was left of my resistance.

"Wait for me. I'll meet you soon." I said lovingly.

You were right. It happened only once and it was the most sublime sunset I had ever seen.

Author's notes: The conversation refers to the audio DRAMA in I don't remember what CD where you can hear Haruka's side of the conversation and infer what Michiru is saying, right before Haruka's prologue. The one with the saxophone in the background.


	9. Youma

It was a hot summer day like any other. The slow, placid pace of life in the suburbs at that time of the year couldn't have foretold what was lurking in the shadow of a century old tree. Everything around her was absolutely ordinary. From the playing children to the couples slowly strolling around the rose garden, the park bloomed with ordinary people busying in their mundane activities.

There wasn't even a warning sign. Not before it was almost too late to prevent a scene. Haruka had felt a shift in the cool breeze that rustled her hair, humid with spray from the fountain nearby. It was the subtlest, faintest of feelings, barely an intuitive hunch, recognizable only due to a millennia of experience: youma.

A second later, all hell broke loose, as people ran away from the ghastly apparition screaming and trampling over one another in their desperation to flee the once peaceful square. Mothers snatched their children from the playground and couples hid behind bushes to keep one another from harm's way. Because there was no mistake, the youma was going for the kill.

Tenoh Haruka, who had until then lived a happily selfish existence, instinctively reached for the henshin stick. She had never actually seen the thing in her sixteen years on this Earth, but she knew it would appear for her. The memories of her many previous lives that came to her in her sleep told her so. And so it happened: words learned in the dawn of times came to her lips as she threw her hand in the air, where long pianist fingers closed around the wand that had materialized just a moment before. Like electricity, the power of a thousand worlds cursed through her body like electricity.

Sailor Uranus, wind senshi, soldier of the sky, appeared fully transformed on top of a tree, striking a pose in her brand new sailor fuku. Her emerald eyes zeroed in the youma immediately, then widened in surprise as her whole body froze in shock. Centuries as a sailor senshi had prepared Uranus for what she saw.

Rather than appearing in an isolated spot and singling out a solitary, vulnerable human as its victim, this one was actively terrorizing the park at large. What was more, at two and a half meters tall it was bigger, bulkier and most probably stronger than any enemy she had ever seen in her dreams. There was no way she could defeat it on her own. And her fight partner had chosen precisely THAT reincarnation to decide that sacrificing her life to protect innocent people was not in her best interest. It was just her luck, Uranus thought with a self-depreciating grimace and jumped off the tree to face her destiny.

Uranus landed beside the fountain. The sudden movement, agile, calculated and full of determination in a sea of chaos, drew the youma's attention. Peasants momentarily forgotten, it turned around to face the wind senshi head on. The youma charged against Uranus like a savage beast, putting all its weight behind the blow. Its scaly charred body tearing soft pale skin where it hit due to the sheer brute force of the hit.

Pain bloomed all over Uranus's body, making tiny fireworks explode behind her closed eyes. The cry it elicited from her lips curled the youma's own mouth into a sadistic grin. A moment later, its rough skin suddenly sprouting thousands of little spikes that bit deeper into the senshi's skin.

This was a thousand times worse than what her dreams of the past had led her to believe, Uranus thought, pulse vibrating wildly inside her. It spread from the chest through the entire body, making her feel alive. Alive and terrorized. There was an excellent chance she wouldn't come out of that fight alive, she realized. What had she gotten herself into? And, for what?

Transforming had been a stupid impulse and Haruka, being the act-first-and-think-later kind of person that she was, had followed it without question. Now she would pay with her life. Her entire body hurt as if it had been run over by a freight train. And it was only their first collision with that beast! The caged bird that was her heart beat so loudly, it deafened Uranus to everything around.

That was no good. She needed all her senses if she was to stand the slightest chance against that thing. And she would fight. Someone like her would never surrender without giving her all until the very end. It was more than sheer survival instinct: it was pride and a sense of duty she couldn't really trace to its origins. Yes, she would fight, and she would either win or die trying. A winner like herself wouldn't half-ass through anything, even if the mere act of breathing was excruciating.

A second after the spikes bit into her skin, Uranus had made her mind. She set her jaw, fisted her hands and closed her eyes in anticipation for the pain to come. Then she pulled back. The curvy spikes tore even more skin and elicited another cry from the stubborn senshi, but she was free at last.

Using her personal hobbies to her advantage, the blonde ran away from the youma to a vantage spot on top of the children's playground. It was clear that brute force and one on one combat wouldn't win her the battle. Uranus stared at her opponent for only a second, long enough to calculate her next move, then she stroke. Once again, words inherited through space and time came to her lips as an energy ball loosely resembling the planet Uranus formed from her fist.

"World Shaking!"

She put all her strength into that attack, which traveled the distance between the senshi and the youma in the blink of an eye.

It was a success. The monster took the blow in full, instinctively guarding its middle section with its strong rocky arms. Uranus saw it parry the attack. The sheer force of the energy ball took the youma a few yards backwards, arms still raised to shield its head and torso. Then the giant planet exploded on the monster's face, blinding everyone involved. Even the panicking civilians had to stop their fleeing because of it.

Uranus feared for them. She had never faced a youma like that, least of all in a crowded public place where her own attacks could cause casualties among the very people she fought to protect. But they seemed to have survived her attack unscathed. Sadly for the senshi, so did the youma. Its yellow eyes burned with hatred as it hissed violently at her baring its teeth.

It would clearly take a lot more than just a single attack to defeat it and she was so exhausted already… Things started to look bleak for the wind senshi. She swallowed hard and looked around, scanning the park for anything that could play to her advantage. However, she didn't get a chance to come up with a new plan, not even to find anything useful in their surroundings. Before she knew it, the youma quit hissing to charge at her at full speed.

More determined to fight to the death than ever, Uranus stood tall and proud, as if her fuku were pristine and the battle already won. The monster kept coming in spite of her more than decent attempt at an intimidating scream. At the last minute, Uranus braced herself for the impact, gritting her teeth when its tall spiky frame collided with her own once again, further lacerating her already bleeding body.

Stone and flesh entangled further as the spikes grew upon contact, longer and sharper than before, as if they fed from her blood and fear to grow stronger. The youma licked its disgusting lips, enjoying the blood that had splashed them, then smiled a wicked smile and grabbed Uranus by the shoulders, burying its claws in her arms and back, a desperate scream He raised her from the ground as if she were an old toy, broken in its arms, then threw her away with very little difficulty.

Uranus flew across the park and hit a tree before falling into the fountain, where the crystalline water slowly began turning red around her floating body. She didn't move and so, the youma soon lost interest and went looking for new victims. Fortunately, the park was deserted by then. After confirming this, the monster decided to just look around with minimum curiosity and then disappeared into the tree tunnel that led into the city streets.

Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who read, followed and/or favorited this story. Your support is my biggest delight. Do thank my fiancée, my very own Michiru, for poking me repeatedly to keep writing this. I did post a new chapter, after all. She has earned it =P I'm sorry to announce this chapter hasn't been proof read yet because Michiru, Hotaru and I are in the process of moving into our dream house ^^ Sorry about the inconveniences that might have caused during your reading.


	10. Guilty

Author Notes: I apologize in advance for any mistakes in this chapter. Hotaru talked my ears off though the entire hour I spent working on it. She was too hyper about Go! Princess Precure to respect my quiet time and then it was her bedtime, so I couldn't proof read it either. T_T Being an adult, responsible father is easier said than done, even with a model child like my little firefly.

"URANUS!" Neptune yelled, her voice pregnant with desperation and worry.

Yet another dream, I figured.

I heard your familiar voice as if through a thick glass or a body of water. My body felt too heavy and tired to move and why would I when my softly swaying bed was soft and comfortable?

Perhaps I should skip school, spend the rest of the day in bed. I would be of no use to the track and field team this state anyway. There was still another week or so before exams. Yes, I would just sleep off the extenuating influenza and revisit the idea of resuming normal life in the morning, _if_ I felt better. Moving was such a bother… if only my body would stop aching…

I woke up in an unfamiliar bed, in an equally unfamiliar room. Even from my spot in the futon, it was obvious the place was big, sunny and luxurious; nothing like my own apartment at the Tenoh sky crapper at the Mugen complex. How did I get there? I wondered.

A wonderful smell, faint, fresh and oddly familiar, brought me the answer: I was at your place… but why!? I had only seen you for a couple of minutes in this lifetime, exchanged a few awkward phrases. You had made it abundantly clear that someone like me had nothing to offer to someone like you, that we lived in separated worlds.

It took me a while to recollect what had happened. My encounter with the youma was foggy to say the least, but it explained why every inch of my body was sore. What I mistook for a bout of influenza was in fact the result of a close encounter with an outwardly creature that, up to that date, had existed only in my craziest nightmares… the recurrent one… the kind that also contained you.

So it was true, then. That we shared a destiny and there were monsters we needed to defeat in order to save the world from The Silence. It wasn't just my mind going crazy after pushing my limits too hard with my running, piano rehearsals and all those F1 competitions.

Well, I could say that I understood your reticence to get involved with either me or those youma things, if the monster I had fought was anything to go by. To be perfectly honest, I myself didn't want to have anything to do with them either. The near death experience at the park had been absolutely terrifying and I saw no way of changing the result of such encounters no matter how much I trained. Not even our joined forces felt enough to overpower those creatures.

I had bandages all over my body, but it didn't feel as heavy and excruciatingly beaten up as it had before. Had you relieved me of my shredded sailor clothes and tended to my wounds? The thought was too much to bear. Embarrassment and the thrill that only came with racing at full speed washed over me at the same time, equally powerful and demanding. I didn't have a mirror at hand, but I could have sworn my face had turned all shades of red.

All that thinking was extenuating and I soon dozed back to sleep, lulled by the false yet absolutely delightful sense of security that more often than not accompanied those recurrent dreams of you, of our past together. Even if we never got to exchange another word after I was out of your place, I would have died happy for having been able to convalesce in your soft bed.

The sun was already beginning to set by the time I woke up again. Its wonderfully warm rays dyed the sky a million colors and your white curtains framing the open window danced slowly in the afternoon breeze. The air currents that reached me from the outside every now and then were mildly brine. They reminded me of your beautiful mermaid hair blowing in the breeze on a summer morning by the sea, gorgeous sapphire eyes locked on me while a smile you had reserved just for me danced on your lips.

Once again, never-land claimed me and I allowed my consciousness to drift away, hoping to see you in my dreams. For the very first time in months, I was willing to forget the heartache of our two previous real life encounters and actively wish for those flashback to come. I would have gladly endured any nightmares about the end of the world if it brought me back to you.

I was surrounded by you in every possible sense except for the obvious, physical one. From the classy Japanese décor of the room, to the faint aroma of your shampoo in my pillow, sleeping in your bed for almost a day was the sweetest torture; the next best thing to having you around. The downside? It made me miss you so much it hurt.

A sound brought me to but I couldn't identify it in the pitch black darkness of your room. The window was closed, its white curtains veiled the delights of the night sky from my eyes. They got used to the dark a moment later. Then it dawned on me: you must have been there earlier to close the window!

The idea of being in the same room with you made my heart beat wildly inside my chest. My body still pained me greatly, but it still tensed at the perspective of catching a glimpse of you in the room. What else could have caused that noise I had heard a moment earlier?

It took all of my strength to will my neck to move around. When it did, my eyes desperately scanned the room for your sylph body. They eventually zeroed on the door, which had just opened to let you in. Your graceful movements told you apart from any other person in the world, but I would have recognized you all the same. Even from afar, in a room full of equally graceful people.

You knelt by my side, gently rested your hand on my forehead and smiled the saddest smile I had seen on you yet. In broke my heart to see you like that but knowing that you were there, by my side, worrying and looking after me, warmed it more than I ever thought it possible.

"You're awake?" You whispered as if to yourself.

I nodded. It hurt in a hundred million places, but I couldn't have cared less.

"That youma got you bad." You went on, still not entirely talking to me. "It was like nothing I've seen before."

"You saved me…" I muttered, my voice hoarser than usual.

You shook your head, that sadness in your eyes growing even stronger.

"I…" you began. Then your voice broke. Were you crying? I couldn't tell in the dark. "I didn't intervene... Saw it all from afar." You confessed full of remorse, biting your lower lip in a gesture I had loved since forever.

I lost sight of your face for a moment, as you bowed as deep as the futon would allow in an apology that wrenched my heart. Why didn't you come and help me? I wondered, not daring to voice my question, as it would only make you feel worse. You had always been more serious than me about our mission. It would have taken a very good reason to keep you from your duty. I was sure of that much.

"I'm the reason you ended up like this." You said in a trembling voice after the bow, bringing me out of my introspection. "I'm so, so sorry!" The level of angst and desperation in your voice rose yet another level and I used all my remaining strength to cover your hand with mine.

"It's all right." I lied, with a weak smile. "Did you stop it… in the end?"

All those poor people; I just couldn't bear the thought of that youma getting to them.

You shook your head once again, causing a few droplets of hot wet tears to splash over my hand.

"It was too strong." I whispered in your defense, but it must have been the wrong answer, for it made you cry harder.

"I… I was wrong. I should have transformed." You cried between sobs that I had seldom heard from you in several millennia. "I allowed it to go away! All those civilians!"

I wanted to say something else, to stop your crying, but I was too spent by my earlier movements and sleep claimed me once again.

The first rays of dawn coming through the window curtains woke me up, as one of them landed directly on my eyes. I was as lost as the first time waking up in your bed. My body felt less spent, though, and most of the pain had subsided, at least momentarily. It took me a few moments to recall our latest conversation and convince myself that it hadn't been just another of our shared dreams.

That had been real, I concluded. And I was feeling much better, so I decided to get up and explore a bit. It only took me a failed attempt to get rid of the covers to realize my pain had just been asleep, giving me a break because I was being a good child laying still.

Stubborn as only I was, I refused to accept defeat and willed myself to get up. It was a slow, excruciating business, but I succeeded after a few attempts. Curiosity got the best of me, as always. There was so much I needed to ask you about, so many questions piled up during those long months looking for you; about your reasons for ignoring me at the rehearsal and your decision to not get involved with the youma.

The need to get answers was so strong, my usual curiosity, that would have begged me to inspect your room and draw conclusions on your personality and way of life based on your house, was easy to ignore. If I was deliberately made to endure that torture then I sure as hell wanted to know the answer. Not that I would dream of demanding it as I would everyone else, especially after how tortured you have looked over the whole incident, but I was still going to inquire until I got some answers.

What I saw upon sitting up made me forget my faint resentment and millions of questions.

You were lying on the floor by the door, the upper part of your body inside the room, the lower half out of sight. Still, what was visible shocked me enough to get out of the futon immediately and crawl to you.

There, on the bloody tatami mat that covered the room, your body lay turned into the same kind of sieve that monstrous youma had beaten me into the day before.


End file.
